'I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you.'
Coming from a wealthy family was never the major flex in her life. To others, she might come off as a rich spoilt brat but the reality was far from what they perceived her to be.
In a world...
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The day was supposed to feel good. The sun hung low in the pale winter sky, spilling light that softened the sharp edges of the city.
Miyeon should’ve felt comforted by its warmth against her face as she stepped out of the coffee shop, the scent of freshly ground beans trailing after her. But she couldn’t. Everything—every sound, every glance, every passing car—set her on edge with only one thing to blame.
It was the call from the night before.
The one she hadn’t spoken about or rather couldn’t, the one that hadn’t needed words for her stomach to twist into uneasy knots. It was another call, another demand.
One Miyeon knew would leave her as well as the person involved broken.
And then there was Nari. Their conversation of the previous night as well as her concerned words this morning before she left for her home lingered in her mind, gnawing at her like the bitter taste of coffee left too long in her mouth.
"You can’t keep avoiding him.", Nari had said softly, her eyes sharp beneath the mask of concern.
But Miyeon could.
She could keep ignoring Wonwoo, keep pretending she didn’t see the way his gaze followed her whenever she turned her back. Keep pretending that the way his face turns sad doesn't hurt her more than it hurts him. Keep pretending that it wasn't to protect him.
She could also keep pretending she wasn’t going back to the place she once called home.
But she was going back.
Tonight.
For Mr. Park’s business party. They would all be there, with their polite smiles and schooled faces, pretending their world wasn’t fracturing beneath them.
And so would her uncle, Juwon.
Miyeon tightened her grip on her bag, her bandaged knuckles aching from the force but it was the only way to keep herself grounded. To make herself feel something else other than the growing fear and the pit in her stomach.
Her driver was already waiting, the sleek black car idling by the curb. She’d asked for him specifically, even though it would’ve been easier—more practical—to go with Wonwoo.
But she couldn’t do that. Not after the way she’d been dodging his calls, his questions, his steady presence that only made the cracks in her resolve feel deeper.
As she slid into the back seat, the faint scent of leather and her driver, Mr Kang's, soft cologne greeted her.
"Hope you’ve been well, young Miss," Mr. Kang greeted, his voice warm but tinged with caution as his eyes flicked to her through the rearview mirror. His words were paired with a small, familiar smile, the kind that carried years of understanding.
